


Smoke {Phan}

by cheekyhowell



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Amazingphil - Freeform, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phanfiction, danisnotonfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5862565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekyhowell/pseuds/cheekyhowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Description: It's 2012 and Dan fucks up. This time however, Phil doesn't forgive him. Basically a fic about nothing but angst and no this does not have a happy ending i'm soRRY. Loosely based off the song Colours by Halsey. <br/>----------------<br/>Warnings: mental illness, implied anorexia, alcohol/smoking, self harm, implied non-con though not described, basically all the angst in one fic. <br/>----------------<br/>Words: 2k<br/>---------------</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke {Phan}

I turned the corner down the damp street across from our apartment. My hands were in my jacket pockets, the leather cold from the outside temperature. My feet dragged across the pavement, the only light around me being the moon and the street lamps. It had only been five minutes since I left the apartment but it felt like forever. I hated when Phil and I got into fights, and what was even worse was that I knew we wouldn't reconcile after this one.

I knew I shouldn't have told him. I regretted the words the second they left my lips, the ones no one wants to hear and the ones no one wants to say either. The events replayed in my head over and over ever since it happened.

~

"I think I need a break," I looked up at Phil, watching his face fall as mine did too. "I'm just at a confusing time in my life right now and I think I need to be alone," I continued, trying to explain myself further when really I knew all I needed was him. Then again, that's what mental illness does to you. You hate the people you don't know and push away the people who know you best. Anxiety in it's greatest form. Or maybe it's depression. Maybe it's just fucked up. That's how it's always been for me. I was longing for that person who wouldn't let me go, who wouldn't watch me walk away, who wouldn't watch me damage myself the way I do. I needed to know he wanted me just as much as I wanted - needed - him. It was eating me alive. Sure he loved me but we weren't forever. Nobody wanted me. I was simply grey and even in the darkest times, Phil would paint me a bright blue sky. Nobody that perfect would ever want something like me - damaged, broken, colourless.

"D-did I d-do something w-wrong?" His eyes were watering now, letting out a breath I'm sure he didn't know he was holding in. He chest caved in on himself, his hands trembling noticeably. No, I thought to myself. You've done everything right. Please save me. Please know that I can't control this. This is my natural instinct, to push people away, see if they want me. Want me Phil. Want me.

"No," I said coldly. "This is in no way your fault," I sighed. I wanted to hug him so bad. Tell him that I'm sorry the way I am. Tell him I'm sorry I'm so broken. Tell him he deserves better. But I just couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I clenched my fists and held myself back, letting him figure out what he was going to do. A tear rolled down his face but he wiped it away quickly, the fabric of his flannel getting a little bit darker at the sleeve. He looked up at me once more, his expression one that I've never seen before.

"I guess it's the end then," he sighed, letting tears flow but not making an effort to hide them. I shook my head gently.

"Not forever," I paused, trying to explain this somewhat clearly. "Just a break. I just need to think,"

"Yeah, well maybe I need to think too then," he snapped at me, turning around and stomping out of the lounge. The door slammed shut, echoing throughout the silent apartment. I slept on the couch that night.

~

Miserable. One word to describe me and that was miserable. While the past few weeks at the flat was agonizing, he seemed to be doing better than I was. He began waking up earlier, eating breakfast without me. Calling some other friends, leaving the apartment for the entire day with no warning. Of course I tried to make small talk but he didn't want any of it. After a while I gave up I guess. While he was out and about, happier than ever, I was in my room with tear tracks down my face and an empty bottle in my hands. My head throbbed, my stomach churned and I remembered that consuming alcohol on an empty stomach wasn't the best idea. I wanted to reach for blades so bad. I had forgotten how to feel. The only emotion I knew was heartbreak and emptiness and I needed that feel of pain. I deserved it.

I remember the day I broke completely. It was 1 in the morning. I had stayed up, trying my best not to call Phil and see if he was safe, until I heard the front door open. Another laughter, one not identifiable as Phil's, boomed throughout the house. They made their way up the stairs and it was no secret as to what the random stranger came here to do. And as I heard the soft moans flow through the air I swiped the blade across my skin, missing the way Phil used to moan like that for me, to feel him on top of me with his hands trailing across my entire body. The cold metal and the warm feeling of ecstasy both gave me satisfaction but one was obviously better than the other.

The taste of alcohol was always in my throat and the smell of cigarettes was always in the air. I will never forget the look on Phil's face when he woke up to get a glass of water, to see me sitting on the floor, cigarette in my hand and the scars littered up and down my entire arm. He stood there for a second, thinking. I hoped he would forgive me for being so stupid, to just throw him away because I couldn't trust myself enough to just let go. But he never did. And so I continued to drink and I continued to smoke and I continued to cut because obviously if nobody else cared why should I?

I sat in my sofa crease, hating myself while the obnoxious pair were cuddling and laughing together, watching the same anime Phil had stopped watching with me in the morning. It was the third day in a row that this guy was here and I was about to lose my mind. Every time Phil smiled, laughed, even looked at him it reminded me of when we were together. When we used to spend hours upon hours talking with each other in his bedroom or how he took me to see my favourite bands and how he would win me plushies at the local carnival down the street. I missed him. I missed him so bad.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when I returned to the lounge with alcohol instead of breakfast. So what if they looked at me weirdly. If they would've cared they would've spoken up.

~

"I miss you," I cried, pushing open the door to Phil's bedroom. It had been one whole month since I told him I needed our little break and I couldn't take it anymore. Mental breakdowns were becoming regular and soon they were happening more than once - two, three times a day. I couldn't take it.

"What do you mean?" he looked at me confused but returned back to editing a new video of his. I felt the pain in my stomach as I just remembered I hadn't eaten anything in almost four days, the only thing I was surviving on being alcohol, cigarettes and occasionally water. I wasn't able to hold anything else down. I was too nauseous and too distracted to eat.

"I lied," I walked closer to him as he closed his laptop suspiciously. "I thought I needed a break and at first it was working but not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about you and I am so sorry Phil," I cried out, sobbing heavily now. But the old Phil was gone. The old Phil would've cried with me, would've pulled me into a hug and told me everything would be okay and that he forgave me. But this new Phil - this new person - I didn't know him. He was cold behind the eyes. No emotions, no compassion, just pity. "I just want us to be friends again,"

"We will never be friends again," he glared at me as he stood up. "We will never go back to the way we were."

"But Phil - I told you this was temporary, I didn't mean it like-"

"You know what, I've done some thinking of my own this past month and I've come to terms with the fact that we will never be the same way we used to be," he spoke angrily, his voice picking up volume. "I feel like you never loved me. You threw me away Dan, I loved you so much and you threw me away and now that you're apologizing you think that's gonna make it better? Really? You should know that's not how it works. And to be quite honest with you, this whole smoking and alcohol thing is completely unnecessary. You pretend to be such a broken person that's only happy when their sorry head is filled with dope just so we can chase after you and I'm done. There are a lot more things you could do for attention Dan, and faking mental illness is not one of them," his voice echoed through the flat as he finished yelling at me, his eyes burning with a fiery hate that I've never seen before.

"You," I paused, completely baffled. "You think this is all fake? You think I'm doing this so you'll feel sorry for me?" I questioned. My mouth hung wide open as I shook my head in disbelief. "You know what Phil, out of all people you were the last person I expected to say something like that," I said calmly. "And maybe you're right. Maybe I didn't love you. Maybe I never did,"

At that moment I knew I had ended it for myself. I had not only ended it for myself, but for everyone else around me too. All my friends - gone. My family - goodbye. Phil - there was no going back. I watched the scowl on his face turn to a face of fear, of disgust. He squared his shoulders, standing a bit taller than he already was.

"You are a horrible person, Dan Howell," he spat at me. "I hope you find someone just as fucked up as you one day, so you two can be unhappy together,"

And with that, I was off. My vision was blurred and my face was red hot with tears.

That was the last time I saw Phil.

~

My jacket was still cold, but damp now from the rain as well. As the night got darker the street lights became brighter. Maybe I didn't love you. Maybe I never did. Those were the same words that rung through my ears on the walk to the bar. Those were the same words that rung through my head as I threw my head back with every shot. Those were the same words that rung through my head as I was pressed up against a cold tiled wall with some guy breathing down my neck, using me for his own pleasure.

And as I stumbled out of the bar, with a missing belt and disheveled hair I thought about the future. Not the future I wished I had or the future I could've had - but the path I was heading down right now. I scraped a hole in my jeans as I fell to the ground, too drunk to stand and too empty to feel. I'd be surprised if I made it until the day I'm 28 years old. When I thought about the future all I saw was sex with strangers and drinks at bars. No one will ever amount to the way Phil made me feel. And of course, I'd still wake every morning but it will never be with him. But he is happy now. He is rid of the weight I brought down on him. And who knows.

Maybe he never loved me either.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry there was really no point to the story other than just plain angst but this story is kinda personal to me since this is actually something similar that happened to me not too long ago, so yeah I hope it wasn't too bad. Thank you to connors_camera for the prompt, this is obviously dedicated to you! I actually think I'm going to be writing a sequel to this soon so stay tuned for that. Thanks everyone, have a lovely day/night xx


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